


Broken Dolls: Requiem

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Assisted Suicide, Blow Jobs, Choking, Extreme Underage, Happy(ish) ending, Jared and Jensen are porn stars, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Alistair - Freeform, Object Insertion, Rape, Rimming, Self-Harm, Suicide, Torture, legal child pornography, mentions of Dean Winchester - Freeform, mentions of Sam Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 15:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Years after they made a best selling porn series, Jensen comes back to Jared with a request Jared does and doesn't want to fulfill.Please read this fic by riyku first, or nothing will make sense: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6395536





	Broken Dolls: Requiem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollylux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/gifts).



> IMPORTANT: This is a death fic. The entire purpose of the fic is that Jensen asks Jared to kill him on film as part of a porn film. The end is as happy as it can be under those circumstances, but please bear that premise in mind. If you don't enjoy death fics, please consider carefully before reading, though I do hope you'll give this one a try anyway.
> 
> In this universe, child pornography is legal and regulated, as are suicide and snuff films (with the proper paperwork filed and fees paid, of course). Jared's a pedophile who works as a porn star, and both he and the legal system are cool with that. If that's not something you enjoy, please don't read. 
> 
> The original story doesn't state Jensen's age, but my interpretation is that he's very young, a theme that I continue in my story. If that's not your cup of tea, please don't read.
> 
> If you would like to comment but are concerned about backlash, you can ask that your comment not be made public. I won't be able to respond to you, but I would love to see what you thought of the story. (Obviously, this applies to polite comments only--I reserve the right to post anything hateful if I feel it deserves to be called out.)

Jared doesn’t do snuff films. Nothing against the guys who do--he understands the desire, the need to not hold back, to drive into a tiny, fragile body with abandon, without having to worry about too much damage. He gets that some guys get off on fear, on domination, on pain. But it’s never been his thing, despite the urging of a number of production companies. 

Which is why his finger is already on his manager’s speed dial to ask what the fuck he’s thinking before he even reaches the end of the email--and then his heart skips a beat when he sees the name. 

_Jensen Ackles_

A surge of arousal rushes through him, his cock hardening so fast his head spins, even in this context. Or maybe that’s just the shock of seeing Jensen’s name again after all this time. _Two years nine months three weeks_ his brain helpfully supplies, and Jared’s eyes cut involuntarily to the small stack of videos on their own shelf by his TV--the only copies of his own work that Jared owns. _Starkly beautiful_ , one cover proclaims. _An instant classic_ says another. _A timeless tale of good and evil._

Jared drags his eyes back to the screen, re-reads the email from his manager. 

_Jared--_

_There’s a contract attached to this email, and it’s for a snuff film. I know you don’t normally do snuff, but you’re going to want to see this one, trust me. There are a lot of details involved, but they’re offering you the chance to write and direct as well as star. Read it through, think about it before you say no._

_It’s Jensen Ackles, Jay, and he asked for you. Take a look. Get this out of your system, and get back on the horse, buddy. It’s time._

_\--Chad_

_Why?_ Jared wonders bitterly. _Why now, why this?_

Their first film together had been an incredible success despite the trite script, beyond anyone’s imagining. Jared had managed to lock the Ackles’ into a follow up four film contract that had garnered actual critical acclaim--an adult entertainment award for best film and best director for Jared, who’d taken over the production aspect after the first film, and best newcomer for Jensen. It was a shock to everyone, but not as shocking as what came next. Jared was soaring, obsessed with Jensen, bubbling with ideas for new films and convinced they’d ride this wave as long as possible--and after the fifth film Jensen refused to work with him again. 

Jared spent a considerable sum of money and even more influence trying to get Jensen back on his set, but he was adamant, and eventually Jared gave up. 

Jared went back to work after six months, and when he did, he was colder. Harder. He found out what pale skin looked like under a streak of blood, how deep bruises could go, that he could enjoy sobs and cries as much as whimpers and moans. His fans loved it, of course, and the money poured in. 

Meanwhile, Jensen was earning his own fame. Everyone wanted him on their set, everyone wanted to fuck him, to watch him getting fucked. Jared only watched the first few before he had to stop, the bitterness and anger and _jealousy_ dragging him down even though he knew he had no right. 

But this. Christ. He remembers how soft Jensen’s skin was, the pale pink of his lips and the way they trembled the first time Jared--the first time _anyone_ \--put a finger, a tongue, a dick inside him. Jared had taken all of Jensen’s firsts, he’d made damn sure of that, and he’s never forgotten a single one. His eyes stray to the stack of videos next to the TV again, but he clicks on the attachment first. 

When Jared finishes the contract and terms, he sits back with a shaky sigh. He’s still half hard just from thinking about fucking Jensen again, burying himself inside the space he’d made inside the tender young body that Jared had mistakenly come to think of as his. And the contract is basically a carte blanche--whatever he wants to do, as many times as he wants to do it...as long as Jensen dies at Jared’s hand by the end. Jared thinks about it-- _really_ thinks about it--his hand around Jensen’s throat as his hips drive in mercilessly. Jensen’s eyes wide and glittery, tear-stained green, lips slowly turning blue as his hands fall away from the scratches on Jared’s forearm, a crimson smear of blood across one cheek, the tight squeeze of Jensen’s body around his dick as Jared takes his final first. 

After he cleans himself up, Jared sits back down at the computer and types up his counter offer. 

Then there’s nothing to do but wait for the phone to ring. It takes two days. 

“Jared Padalecki.” 

“Don’t most people say hello?” 

Jared remembers that voice. Soft, thin, a little breathy. Jensen had barely spoken on camera--the films were mostly silent. Off camera he’d opened up a little more, hero worship and starry eyes keeping his voice low, his excitement muted but still charming in a way Jared had never felt before. He’s shy, his parents claimed, though Jared didn’t see it, the only sign those beautifully tiny teeth worrying his lower lip til Jared thought he’d bite clean through it. He’d thought, in a clinical sort of way, that Jensen would look good with blood and bruises splashed across all that pale gold skin, that he was lucky Jared’s interests didn’t really run that way most of the time. But he still remembers. 

“Most people aren’t me.” The words come unbidden, easy, the kind of banter that someone Jared’s size needs to put people at ease. “How are you, Jensen?”

“Will you do it?” There’s something in the boy’s voice, hopeless hope, something indescribable that snags at Jared and makes him drip and ache. 

“Why do you want me to?” Jared’s only mildly curious--even though he didn’t watch the movies he knows that Jensen’s gotten onto some rough sets in the last two years, taken jobs normally reserved for kids who can’t pass for young enough or aren’t pretty enough for the circuit--the kind of sets that would be happy to make sure Jensen was covered in blood and bruises the way Jared had once briefly imagined. Jensen had had better offers, Jared was sure, even if he didn’t want to take Jared up on his. 

“Not your business,” Jensen says, and God he still sounds so _young_. 

“It is, actually,” Jared says plainly. “If you’re sick, I need to know.” 

Jensen sucks in a breath, seemingly offended by Jared’s suggestion. 

“I’m fine,” he says, voice thin and brittle. “I’m fine, my sister”--his voice breaks on the word--”is fine, my parents are fine. I’m not the porn version of Pretty Woman; I don’t need you to save me.” 

“Fine,” Jared says, shrugging even though Jensen couldn’t see. “I want a week beforehand.” He shoves his sweats down and tucks them behind his balls, already hard again, just from Jensen’s voice, from the certainty that whatever this is, Jensen won’t say no. “One week, anything I want. And I write the script.” 

There’s a long silence on the other end as Jared strokes himself, thumb pressing the nerves under the head the way Jensen’s tongue will be soon, Jensen’s rapid breath the only sign he’s still there. “Two days,” Jensen says at last. “And no more questions.” 

Jared doesn’t try to hide the sound he makes when he comes. 

The script Jared writes isn’t much in his own mind. _Man meets boy at the park/mall/burger joint. Boy comes home with man. Man fucks boy in every imaginable way._ He doesn’t write man kills boy because that’s a given here and he’s still not really a fan of snuff films. He watches a few over the next couple of days while Jensen finishes up his obligations though. They’re basic: brutal, unfeeling fuckfests that leave him as cold as the child at the end. He tears up what he’s written and starts over. 

In the end, he goes back to the beginning. Jensen on a swing in the park, flower crown sitting crooked on his head, his wings broken and bent this time. Weary, jaded. Jared still has the original wings from the first film, and he wonders if Jensen has grown too much to wear them. Wonders if he’s losing his mind to even think such a thing, but in the end he gets them out anyway. 

Jared submits the script and it’s approved on the spot. No rewrites, no wasted time. Everyone wants to rekindle this magic, everyone wants to see how this story ends, titillated by the tragedy playing out in front of them. Everything had been set up even before Chad sent the email, just on the chance he’d agree. Jared hates them even though he understands. 

Jensen shows up on Jared’s doorstep the day after the approval. No warning, no call. A knock on the door and he’s there, backpack thrown over one shoulder, limp and almost empty, knee-torn jeans and a shirt that says _Come in me, bro._ Unlaced tennis shoes and golden hair just long enough to get a good grip and God. _God._ Those same green eyes, world weary and innocent at the same time, those same freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose like kisses. Those same lips, and the door is barely closed behind him before Jared’s pushing him to his knees, Jensen sinking gracefully to the floor like he’s still nine and Jared is still his costar and the light of his world. 

Jared tears open his jeans, grateful he hadn’t bothered with underwear today as he thumbs at Jensen’s full lower lip. “God, your mouth,” he mutters under his breath, and Jensen shivers, eyes never leaving Jared’s face. Jared slides in smooth as silk, sinking in until he’s wedged deep in Jensen’s throat, til Jensen’s nose is buried in Jared’s neatly trimmed pubes and he’s straining to meet Jared’s gaze. No hint of teeth, no gag reflex, just a watery moan that Jared might have missed if he weren’t desperate for every moment, every sound, every sight. He grinds in deeper, barely pulling out an inch before he’s deep in the tight clench of Jensen’s throat again, one hand digging into his sunkissed hair to hold him still. It’s perfect, it’s heaven, and Jared’s coming before he even realizes, surprising them both as Jensen tries to swallow it all and fails, come and spit gagged out to mix with the tears leaking down his cheeks. “Fuck,” Jared hisses, slopping more of his come out of Jensen’s mouth to drip down over his balls, stain his jeans. He doesn’t care, nothing matters except the stretch of Jensen’s lips, the gleam of his eyes, the tilt of his slight body as he fights to stay still. Finally Jared’s done, spent and twitching with aftershocks, pulling out as Jensen falls to his hands and knees, trying not to puke. 

“I--I almost forgot,” he says when he can speak, his voice a hoarse rasp that makes Jared’s cock jerk eagerly. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, rubs the mess into his faded, dirty jeans. “How much of you there is.”

Jared should feel flattered, but instead he feels stung. _I forgot_ is all he hears as he tucks himself away, but he pushes the feeling aside, offers Jensen a hand up and really looks at him. 

He’s thin. Taller than he was, but not by much, his face carved a little tighter. Still beautiful in a way that makes Jared think of fallen angels, and he wonders, as so many others had, who was the real devil in their story, because who could be expected to resist such temptation? There are pale thin lines across the porcelain skin of his wrists and painful pink lines laddered up to his elbows, and he makes no attempt to hide them when he sees Jared looking, just holds Jared’s eyes defiantly til Jared shakes his head and sighs. 

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the rest of the house. He shows Jensen the bathroom and waits patiently while he cleans up, tosses his pack in the corner. Jensen raises an eyebrow at Jared’s bedroom, everything huge and custom made so that Jared can sleep comfortably. 

“Am I staying in here too?” Is all he says, and Jared nods. 

“Eat whatever you want,” Jared tells him in the kitchen, and Jensen just laughs humorlessly. 

“I’ll pass,” he says, and from what Jared can tell he’s been passing a lot lately. He grabs a bottle of gatorade out of the fridge and hands it to Jensen--he doesn’t care if Jensen eats or not, but he doesn’t want him passing out from anything but exhaustion in the next two days. 

“Suit yourself.” Jared shrugs. “But stay hydrated. I don’t want you passing out on me.” It’s his turn to raise an eyebrow when Jensen pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights up. 

“You’re not my dad,” Jensen says wearily, inhaling deeply. “So don’t start.” 

“Anything I want,” Jared says mildly, but he lets Jensen finish the cigarette before crowding him against the counter. Jensen looks up at him, thick lashes hooding his eyes, and Christ, Jared’s already getting hard again. 

“I almost forgot about that too,” Jensen says softly, tracing the hot, hard line of Jared’s dick through his jeans. “You were always ready, always wanted to go again.” His hand still looks small against the swell of Jared’s dick, his tongue flicking over his lips as if he can still taste Jared there. Jared hefts him onto the counter, eating the taste of smoke and ash from his mouth, grinding against him as he rips Jensen’s shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere on the floor. Laddered ribs under his hands, collar bones that beg for Jared’s teeth, freckles and bruises in equal measure, and Jared feels drunk on all of it. 

“Gonna fuck you,” he whispers feverishly into Jensen’s mouth, “gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight tomorrow, gonna get so deep inside you--” 

Jensen moans against Jared’s lips, spreads his legs wantonly as Jared flips him around and presses his face into the counter, toes dangling scant inches above the floor. Jeans slide easy over skinny hips, and then Jared’s pushing in with two fingers and spit, a moan and a prayer easing the way for bigger and better things. 

“Still so fucking tight,” Jared says through gritted teeth. “God--”

Jensen doesn’t answer, turns his head to suck Jared’s thumb into his mouth instead, suckling and pulling at the warm, salty flesh like it’s Jared’s cock, like Jared didn’t give him time to do earlier. Jared groans, precome pumping out of him like his own personal supply of lube, and he can’t take any more. Jensen’s hole is shiny with spit, the tiniest gape from Jared’s fingers teasing at him and kissing the head of his dick hungrily as Jared nudges him, a little teasing of his own before he breaches Jensen fully, the fat head of his dick stretching the tight muscle to a thin pink rim. Jensen shudders underneath his hand, muscles locked tight, and Jared grabs one pale thigh and lifts it onto the counter to spread Jensen even wider. 

A hard thrust of his hips and Jared’s halfway in, Jensen’s tears warm on the palm of his hand. Jared doesn’t much care if he cries, he never has, but he’d slow down if he could, if he weren’t _desperate_. Jensen’s hands flex on the counter, whimper easing out of him as Jared fucks him hard and deep, eyes locked on the thick, slick slide of his cock ramming into Jensen’s hole. Nothing has ever felt this good, not since the last time. Jared’s had a hundred mindless fucks since Jensen and none of them have ever been like this, none of them, and Jared slams home one last time and comes, churning through the mess he’s left inside Jensen. It froths out of his hole, too much for Jensen’s body to hold, even now. Jared stops at last, still lodged as deep as he can get, bends over the small body beneath him in a way that would never be allowed on camera. He closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of sweat and come and _boy_ , the same dizzying mindfuck that being inside Jensen has always been. 

But even Jared can’t go again so soon, much as he’d like to, and he pulls out of Jensen’s body with a reluctant sigh, lets the boy slide to the floor in a heap. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” Jensen mumbles dazedly, and Jared doesn’t get it till Jensen picks up his shirt and starts wiping haphazardly at the base of the counter. Cleaning up his own mess. “I didn’t think--I didn’t know--”

Jared watches, pleasure drunk and fuck stupid, til it sinks in. Jensen hadn’t been old enough to come when they’d filmed together, hadn’t even gotten hard until their last time together--the time the script had Jensen seek out Jared rather than the other way around. But surely, at some point? 

“Was that--?” Jared asks with obvious disbelief. 

Jensen just looks at him, shaken out of his haze by Jared’s tone. He flushes, color creeping up his throat and over his cheeks. “No. I started producing a few months ago, and a couple of the producers insisted I be forced into a manual climax.” The color on his cheeks deepens. “But it was the first time I wanted to.”

The words sound wrong, clinical and unnatural from someone so young, but Jared doesn’t care. He needs it, suddenly, Jensen’s face, his sounds, the clench of his body that Jared had somehow missed in his own climax. He scoops Jensen up into his arms, deja vu all over again as Jensen wraps his arms around Jared’s neck, puffy lower lip sucked between his teeth and it throws Jared off balance how he can seem so small and young and vulnerable, and yet. And yet. 

Jared lays Jensen down on the bed. Kisses him til he’s lightheaded, til the tastes of smoke and ash are gone and there’s only Jensen, pure and clean, pushes his knees up to his chest and kisses him again, the taste of his own release on Jensen’s skin heady and sharp. Jensen cries out, bitten off and shocked, when Jared digs his tongue into Jensen’s ass, works his thumbs in alongside and spreads him wide as he licks and sucks and rubs as much of himself as he can all over Jensen’s insides. 

“Please,” Jensen begs, the tremor in his voice spreading through his body, and this is what Jared wants to see, what he _needs_ , Jensen’s tiny hands on his shoulders, his head thrown back, lips trembling around a sob as Jared’s fingers replace his tongue and his hand wraps around Jensen’s hard little cock. 

“Go on,” Jared urges, entranced, enthralled, and squeezes gently as Jensen jerks in his hand, a few pearly drops leaking out over his fingers to be licked away like nectar. Jensen’s eyes flutter and Jared pulls him close, half hard cock nestled against Jensen’s puffy red hole, already eager to be back inside where he belongs. 

Jared wakes up hard, the soft warmth of Jensen’s sleeping body curled against him. Jared groans under his breath, rocks his hips so that the head of his dick nudges against Jensen’s balls, against the soft skin of his cock. He eases back, just enough to catch on Jensen’s rim, just enough that he can push his way inside, tight heat clenching around him as Jensen wakes up with a gasp. 

“Shh,” Jared soothes, hips working harder now, forcing his way in past Jensen’s automatic, sleepy resistance. “Shh.” Jensen shudders around him, pained whimpers falling into the dim room as Jared spears him open. When Jared is all the way in, when he can see the head of his dick pushing out the concave plane of Jensen’s tummy, Jensen speaks, shaky and thin. 

“How are you going to do it?” 

Jared doesn’t answer, just slides his hand slowly up the line of Jensen’s body. Long fingers wrap around Jensen’s throat and squeeze, pressure building slow and steady as Jensen writhes against him, throat working frantically in Jared’s grip. One small hand scrabbles futilely at Jared’s fingers but Jared just fucks him harder, breath coming faster as Jensen’s disappears. It’s incredible, Jensen’s desperate spasms milking Jared’s cock, his small body arching painfully as they both come, the frantic whooping rasp of Jensen’s lungs filling as Jared’s hand falls away.

Every single time with Jensen is the best Jared has ever had, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to give this up again in less than 48 hours. 

Gradually Jensen’s gasps ease, but Jared doesn’t let him go. Doesn’t pull out even when he softens, even when Jensen’s breathing quickens again into tears. _No questions,_ Jensen had said, harsh and breaking, but Jared has so many.

“I want a shower.” 

Quiet, ruined whisper, electric and dark. Jared twitches inside Jensen, sense memory rolling his hips with a groan but he stops. Pulls out reluctantly, can’t resist the urge to slide three fingers into Jensen’s fucked out hole, tease the rim with a fourth when Jensen rocks about against him with a small hurt sound. Jensen in his arms again like nothing, barely more than the very first time, and he half expects the boy to complain, demand to be put down and not treated like a child. He’s not a child, hasn’t been since Jared fucked the virgin out of him, no matter how small and slight he is. 

Jensen clearly expects him to leave once the shower turns on, but Jared just sits on the closed toilet, watching. He’s not giving up a moment that he doesn’t have to, not sure when that became his priority but that familiar heat is already pooling thickly inside him again at the thought of Jensen wet and dripping, smelling of Jared’s soap and his own clean scent. Those plush lips thin, and there’s that defiance, that brittle hardness that Jared had seen earlier. 

“Suit yourself,” he says, and opens his bag. _Crush_ , Jared reads upside down. _poetry by Richard Siken_. He’s mildly intrigued, almost misses the other thing sitting on the counter now. 

Jensen takes a blade out of the nearly empty box, holds it carefully by the back. 

“Wait,” Jared says, and Jensen gives him a hard look. 

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I didn’t say stop.”

Jared stands, loves the way Jensen’s eyes track up and up, the way his lips part and his eyes widen as Jared steps behind him. They couldn’t be more different in the mirror, ivory and bronze, Jared’s hands glowing against the soft skin of Jensen’s narrow waist. Jensen inhales sharply when Jared lifts him easily to rest on the counter, knees spread wide around the sink, utterly exposed, blood rushing into his cheeks, his throat, his chest down to his nipples as Jared lifts his cock to prod at his hole, loose and still leaking Jared’s come. It’s got to hurt, the rim puffy and swollen and red in the mirror, but Jensen doesn’t protest, eyes wide and dark, hips jerking against Jared’s hand in time with his faint, stuttering breaths. 

The height difference isn’t as pronounced like this, Jensen’s throat with it’s necklace of bruises close enough for Jared’s lips to find as he takes the blade from Jensen’s trembling fingers, trails it slowly down his chest. 

“Where?” he whispers, lips moving against the delicate shell of Jensen’s ear. He watches Jensen tremble in the mirror, watches his dick rise slowly, feels Jensen’s helpless moan rattle through his own chest. Jared rocks against him, the head of his dick catching Jensen’s hot, swollen rim, slipping inside him just as his wandering hand reaches the wet tip of Jensen’s cock. “Here?” he asks, pressing the sharp corner of the blade into the slit as another drop wells up. 

Jensen’s breath hitches as he shakes his head, eyes darting frantically between Jared’s hand and his face in the mirror. 

“No?” Jared muses, and drags the sharp point down the length of Jensen’s dick as Jensen moans, nails digging into Jared’s arm around his waist as he fights to stay still. “Here, then.” The point comes to rest against the hairless skin of Jensen’s balls, scrapes a long red furrow into the tender flesh. Jensen’s hand buries itself in Jared’s hair, drags him into a messy kiss, _no_ and _please_ and _yes_ pushed into Jared’s mouth on the tip of Jensen’s tongue as he grips Jared’s wrist, guides him down to a crosshatch of old scars, thin and white, almost hidden by the fuzz on his thigh. 

“Please,” he begs, breathless, incoherent, dazed, and _Christ_ Jared can’t tell this kid no. He leans over Jensen’s shoulder, watches his face in the mirror as he drags the corner of the blade over the scarred flesh til he finds an unmarked patch. 

“Shhh,” he whispers tenderly, and draws the blade deep. 

Jensen’s mouth falls open in a wordless shout, back arching violently as his hand clenches painfully in Jared’s hair. Blood spills into the sink, shockingly red against Jensen’s skin and the cold porcelain, warm against Jared’s fingers. Jensen’s panting against Jared’s throat _pleasepleaseplease_ and Jared wonders feverishly if he’ll come just from this, his blood on Jared’s fingers, his pain at Jared’s whim. 

“Shh,” Jared whispers again, catching Jensen’s lips in a kiss. He’s drunk on the sounds Jensen makes, the way he’s writhing on Jared’s cock, the scent of blood clogging the air. The blade bites into the thin skin of Jensen’s thigh again, scant millimeters from the first cut, and Jared swallows down Jensen’s cry eagerly. His arm tightens around Jensen’s waist, forcing himself deeper into Jensen’s body, and he doesn’t wait for Jensen to ask this time, blood welling up again as Jensen comes untouched, dragging Jared with him into hot red darkness. 

Jensen sags in Jared’s arms, utterly spent, mouth slack and dazed. Jared can’t resist the urge to dip his fingers into the blood still leaking from Jensen’s thigh, paint Jensen’s lips scarlet just so Jared can kiss it away. Copper and iron flood his senses as he carries Jensen to the shower on shaky legs that barely hold them both up, the warm water soothing as he cleans Jensen gently and carries him back to the bed. Blood is still seeping from Jensen’s thigh and Jared digs out his first aid kit so he doesn’t leak all over the sheets.

Jensen barely stirs, chest hardly rising, limbs sprawled artlessly across Jared’s bed, and there it is again, desire, lust, the near frenzy Jared feels to possess this boy. He turns his back instead, dragging on a pair of sweats from his laundry pile and planting himself in front of his computer. 

“Rosey.” 

“Heya, Rosey. It’s Jared.” The other man had picked up on the first ring--waiting for Jared’s call, if Jared had to guess. Rosey was a notorious gossip who still managed, to everyone’s amazement, to have the latest and best dirt out there. 

“Jay-bird! How’s it hanging, man? Your dick fall off yet? I assume it must have if you’re talking to me instead of banging Jenny through the mattress.” 

Jared laughs politely. “Oh, trust me--he knows the equipment still works. He’s sleeping right now--kid looks like he’s been to hell and back. 

“Yeah, well...that ain’t far from the truth.” 

“You know why I’m calling?”

“To be honest, Jay-rod, I’m a little hurt you didn’t call me sooner.” 

“I did.” Anger seeps into Jared’s voice and he doesn’t try to hide it. “You blew me off.”

“Yeah, well. You should have called me _back_. You know how pissed JDM was when you broke your contract and went on hiatus. It would have been worth my job. But man...you know the industry line: nobody gets to be a kid anymore, it’s just sex. And it is. A little sex never hurt anyone, right? Maybe a few bruises here and there, whatever. But what they did to this kid…” 

Rosey talks for half an hour or so...Jared listens. As he’s about to hang up Rosey adds a warning to the story. “And you might want to do a little digging on this one, Jay. There’s something wonky with the kid’s contract, but no one--and I mean _no one_ \--is talking to me about it. Maybe you’ll have better luck.” 

Jared doubts that--no one is better at digging out gossip than Rosey. Still, he makes a few more calls and gets a basically the same answers, if a little more guarded, a little more hedged.  


It boils down to this: Jensen fell in love with Jared, as much as a 9 year old can. Call it hero worship, call it obsession, but if a kid is old enough to get fucked who’s to say he’s not old enough for love? Whatever it was, the bottom line is that Jensen told his parents he was in love. He wanted to make more films with Jared. 

And they freaked. No son of theirs was going to be _gay_ , they’d declared, outraged. It’s one thing for Jensen to have sex for money to support his family, it’s another thing entirely to do it because he _wanted_ to. So no more working with Jared. They signed him up with other sets, other producers, hoping he’d see the errors of his ways, and when that didn’t work...they started renting him out to the more hardcore companies, assuming that if they made it painful and terrible enough he’d eventually recant. Now they’re claiming Jensen volunteered for ‘one last film’, with Jared as his costar. 

Jesus. 

Jared’s not naive. He knows most kids don’t want to get fucked in the ass by anyone, let alone someone his size. But that’s life nowadays. Kids grow up fast, they get over it, or they don’t. Most of the kids who end up in snuff films or on the hardcore pain circuit don’t have anyone looking out for them or taking care of them--and that’s life, too. The sympathy Jared feels for them is clinical and detached, easily dismissed. 

But Jensen. Jared knows he hasn’t been rational about Jensen since the moment they met, and the rage and sorrow bubbling through him now is more immediate and personal than anything Jared has felt in a long, long time. 

But that’s life. 

Jensen is damaged goods now, in his own mind if not in Jared’s. Jared believes him when he says he wants this; Jared’s not going to try and persuade him to stay if he wants to leave. That’s not what Jared is angry about--he’s angry because it didn’t have to be this way. He’s angry because he-- _they_ \--could have had exactly what they wanted, except that some homophobic, hypocritical douchebags fucked everything up. As a result Jared has lost the only thing he’s ever truly wanted...and he doesn’t really want to do that again. Doesn’t want to live through that again. 

There are still things he can do. He can’t fix this--contracts are signed, minds are made up. But he can make this right for Jensen, and he can make sure the people who caused this mess aren’t happy at all. And he’s damn well going to do it. 

Jared works for another two hours, making phone calls, pulling in favors. He hears Jensen in the kitchen at one point, hears the TV turn on, but doesn’t look up, determined to finish this before he loses himself in Jensen’s body again. 

The final call is the hardest...and the easiest. He’s probably known, on some level, that this was coming ever since he got Chad’s email. Everything else that’s happened has just made that clearer.

“Man, you sure about this?” The voice on the other end of the phone is skeptical, a little angry. “He’s just a piece of ass.” 

“I’m sure,” Jared says, keeping his voice mild despite the way the words make him seethe. “I’ll text you the address when I have it, you can pick up the signed contract and the videos from Chad.” 

“Alright, Jay.” There’s genuine regret in the voice now. “Sorry to see it end like this, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.” 

“Exactly. Enjoy the vids, Chris. And stay out of trouble.”  


 

Jared stands up, stretches. Heads into the living room where the TV is playing. 

Jensen is watching their video, the very first one. He’s wearing one of Jared’s t-shirts, huge and dangling off one shoulder, covering his dick and the hand moving over it. Jared flops down on the couch next to him with a low groan, picks him up and moves Jensen onto his lap, back to chest, legs stretched wide over Jared’s thighs. Jensen doesn’t look away from the screen, gasps when Jared nuzzles and bites the smudgy bruises ringing his neck and covers Jensen’s little hand with his own. 

“I handpicked you,” Jared murmurs, squeezing Jensen’s dick gently. His hand engulfs Jensen, still too small for Jared to really stroke. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind, though. “You were so fucking beautiful, so perfect. Had to jerk off twice that morning before I got to set so I wouldn’t blow my load before I even got inside you.” 

“Then why didn’t you want to work with me again?” Jensen’s voice is so small, breathless. Jared shifts underneath him with a groan, moves so that his cock is sliding right under Jensen’s into their linked fingers. 

“I did,” Jared tells him. He rubs his cheek against Jensen’s hair, so soft. Breathes in his familiar scent, feels like he’s losing his mind. “I tried everything I could think of to get you back on my set, but your parents said no. I wish it had worked out.”

Jensen nods as though he’d expected he answer. “They told me you’d blacklisted me. That you wouldn’t work with anyone who hired me. All I ever wanted to know was _why._ ” 

Jared doesn’t answer. None of that matters now. He wraps Jensen’s hand around both of them, breathy groan when his fingers can’t touch around the thick meat of Jared’s cock. Toys with Jensen’s nipples, pulls and pinches and tugs underneath Jared’s oversized shirt until Jensen is sobbing, slides three fingers back behind Jensen’s smooth, hairless balls and straight into his hole. 

“Come for me,” he whispers and Jensen does, vise grip around Jared’s fingers, tiny pearly drops bubbling over his own fingers to mix with the precome gushing from Jared. 

_”Jen,”_ Jared groans, and shifts them abruptly onto the carpet in front of the couch, eyes flicking back to the TV where a younger version of himself is drilling into a younger Jensen like his life depends on it. He remembers that day, the absolute mindfuck of it all, as he pushes into Jensen again. Jensen doesn’t stay quiet this time, can’t, pushes his hips back to meet Jared’s thrusts, cries when Jared pushes a finger in alongside his dick to stretch his rim even more sweetly. He flips Jensen over onto his back when TV Jared does, but he doesn’t come on Jensen’s face and chest this time, just drives right back in, bowing Jensen’s back as he scrabbles at the hands bruising his hips. Jared can see himself moving inside Jensen, see the head of his dick swollen and hard moving in the V of Jensen’s hips, presses down with his thumbs and comes like a fountain, filling the little body underneath him to overflowing. 

“Christ,” he says raggedly when he can breathe again. He rolls his hips just to watch Jensen writhe, just to see the pink tinged froth slop out of Jensen’s abused hole. Jensen trembles underneath him, clings to Jared, his baby bird pulse beating frantically against Jared’s skin as aftershocks rock them both. He waits til Jared eases out of him before he speaks.  


“You can ask,” he whispers, face turned to the side, voice raw and bruised. “I’ll tell you, if you want.” 

Jared isn’t sure he wants to know more than what Rosey had already told him. But he can’t deny a certain curiosity too, a need to know why everything he’s ever wanted is being taken away from him. He pushes himself up with a groan, pulls Jensen with him to settle more comfortably back against the base of the couch. Jensen folds himself into Jared’s arms with a sigh, face pressed against Jared’s chest, and Jared surprises them both, he thinks, when he says, “I want.” 

Jared expects Jensen to start from the beginning, _I fell in love with you_ , maybe. Some variation of what Rosey had told him. But Jensen surprises him again. 

 

“I tried to file for emancipation,” he says quietly. “My agent is my legal guardian and has power of attorney--she helped me get everything filed but my parents found out before it went through.” He laughs bitterly. “They came all the way back from the Bahamas to fight it, to prove what loving parents they were...I hadn’t seen them in five months at that point.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jared tells him, presses a barely there kiss to the top of his head. He means it, in his own way. He regrets all the bad things that have happened to Jensen up to this point, all the things that kept Jared from having him. Jensen doesn’t respond, just sighs deeply.

“After that, I heard them talking,” he says quietly. “I was almost used up, they said. I was getting too big for the circuit, I wasn’t pretty enough anymore. If I was going to be ungrateful and try to leave anyway...” His voice hitches a little but doesn’t break as he fingers the scars on his wrist. “They’d had offers to do a snuff film, good offers, more money than I’d made them in the past three years. Enough to see them through for a good long time, and I wouldn’t be around to be a bad influence on Megan anymore.” He shudders, bird boned and light, skin moving soft and smooth against Jared’s chest as he settles more comfortably. Jared wishes he could wrap him up, keep him safe and sound and small against his chest forever, but Jared is above all else a realist. 

“What did you do?” Jared asks instead, fascinated in spite of himself. He feels Jensen’s smile against his skin. 

“I asked for you,” he says quietly, but he can’t hide the fear and longing in his voice. “I knew they hated you, and I--I wanted to see you again. Just one more time. My manager didn’t want to do it, but it was obvious they were going to take an offer sooner or later, and if--if I was going to do this I wanted it to be on my terms. By the time they found out what I’d set up it was too late for them to stop it. And they don’t know it yet, but last year she set it up so I’m in charge of who gets all the money from my movies. Once I’m...after this one, it’s all going to Kismet.”

The memory hits Jared like a physical blow. It was during their fourth film, set in New Orleans. Jensen’s parents hadn’t come to set at all, and Jared had been secretly pleased to have the time alone with him. Time to get to know him, to teach him. They spent a week in the city, nearly inseparable, and Jared had taken him to Kismet to play with the dogs every day after filming, getting him used to his costars before their final scene. Jensen had fallen in love with a mutt named Harley, charming Jared and the staff with his joyful glee every time they played together. 

_Mom and Dad said no,_ Jensen had said wistfully the second day, and Jared had decided then and there that Harley was coming home with him at the end of the film. _Meggy is allergic and I’m too young to take care of a pet._ Jared had treasured every smile and every peal of laughter from those visits, the way Jensen had opened up to him even more, and his chest tightens at the realization that those hours had been important to Jensen as well.  


“How are you going to do it?”

The words, low and soft and full of fascinated dread, drag Jared back into the present, back into the reality that they only have a short time left together. It’s disconcerting, a jarring juxtaposition of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Like last time, he doesn’t answer with words, just kisses Jensen gently, softly, hungrily. Cradles Jensen’s face, his hands huge as he holds Jensen’s head still, fingers scritching through his soft blond hair. It’s different than any kiss they’ve shared so far and Jensen melts into him with a sigh, his tongue slipping out shyly to trace Jared’s lower lip. Jared lets him, soft _mmm_ of pleasure encouraging Jensen to do what he likes, and he does, exploring Jared’s mouth with more and more confidence as Jared’s hands stroke his back and his thighs and the plush of his ass. Jensen moans, shifts to ride Jared’s thigh, his cock slipsliding through the sweat over Jared’s hipbone. It’s good, it’s _amazing_ , and Jared is shocked when Jensen pulls away suddenly with a sob, burying his face against Jared’s shoulder. Jared lets him cry for a moment, too confused to stop him, then finally tugs him back to meet his eyes. 

Jensen stares up at him, tear streaked cheeks and red runny nose, and watery green eyes that shine brighter than anything in Jared’s memory or imagination. 

“I can’t,” he says, sniffling. “I can’t--tomorrow--if it’s like this, if I think about--” His face crumples again, briefly, eyes slipping closed against fresh tears. When he opens them he’s in control again, and Jared already misses the glimpse he’d had into Jensen’s heart.

“How are you going to do it?” Jensen asks again, his voice shaking a little and his eyes begging Jared not to notice. 

Jared’s heart breaks quietly, privately. He can’t give Jensen much, but he can give him this--dignity, respect, even if most people wouldn’t recognize it as such. He can respect his bravado, respect his choice, even if he wishes it were different. 

Jared doesn’t respond to Jensen’s question right away. He can’t. He buys himself some time by tracing the bruises on Jensen’s throat with one big finger, pushing down harder when Jensen moans, breathless and needy, let’s his body take over where his mind and his heart are failing. He already knows the answer to Jensen’s question, has since he first read Chad’s email, but that’s not what he thinks Jensen needs right now. Instead, Jared leans over to the small table at the end of the couch, opens the drawer.

Jensen’s eyes are huge when Jared turns back around, luminous and bright with surprise. The gun looks like a toy in Jared’s hand, gleaming black barrel and walnut handle. It’s a standard 9mm, one of two that Jared has in the house because he’s learned this line of work can make you more enemies than friends, but the blood draining from Jensen’s face tells Jared he’s probably never seen one up close before. It’s not loaded, because Jared isn’t stupid, but he can tell Jensen thinks it is, face deathly pale and eyes wide with shock as Jared pushes him down onto the thick carpet, traces his lips with the barrel and forces him to taste it. Jensen makes a small distressed sound, even as he wraps his fingers around Jared’s wrist and pulls him closer despite the tears in his eyes. 

The gun slides into Jensen’s mouth like a dream, stretching his lips wide around the trigger guard as the sight scrapes the back of his throat. Jensen whimpers, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he gags on the taste and the hard, unyielding metal, shaking but not pulling back, not looking away from Jared’s transfixed gaze. 

Jared drags the barrel out of Jensen’s mouth with an obscene sound, strings of spit trailing from the barrel as he drags it slowly down Jensen’s heaving chest, circles each nipple until they draw up tight and hard. The sight leaves harsh red lines on Jensen’s chest, bumping over each laddered rib until Jared reaches his navel.  


“Haven’t decided yet,” Jared says, voice strained and low, arousal pooling thick and hot in his belly. He traces the line of Jensen’s cock with the barrel, half hard and still sticky wet, prods his slit and digs into the nerve under the head as Jensen shudders uncontrollably against him. Jensen whimpers again, pained and needy, a shot of lust straight to Jared’s gut as his cock tries to fill again. It’s too soon, his balls aching as they try to draw up, but the sounds Jensen makes when Jared drags the barrel down to nudge at his hole are too beautiful to stop. 

“P-Please,” Jensen sobs, and Jared can’t tell if he wants Jared to stop now or never. Doesn’t care, can’t care, loses himself in the way the cold black metal disappears into Jensen’s body instead, the way Jensen’s gasping for breath like Jared’s hand is around his throat again, the way his muscles seize tight at the intrusion. Jared fucks him slowly, then faster, rubbing the tip against Jensen’s sweet spot over and over, pushing Jensen’s thigh higher and opening him up more so that he can get deeper. A low keening moan fights it’s way out of Jensen’s abused throat, harsh and desperate, a live wire straight to Jared’s dick, straining and hard again, and _God_. Jared’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to see Jensen come like this, to know that he’ll take anything Jared gives him and love it. 

“Come for me,” Jared growls, and Jensen’s back arches, eyes rolled back and bruised pink mouth gasping wide for air. But he doesn’t come until Jared shoves the gun in harder, finger slipping off the guard. The sound of the trigger releasing is shockingly loud, and Jensen comes instantly, untouched, body bowed and clenched tight tight tight around the unforgiving metal. Aftershocks are still shuddering through him as Jared eases the gun away, dipping low to kiss Jensen’s abused and swollen hole, soothing his hot puffy rim and chasing the sharp, intoxicating taste of gun oil and _Jensen_. He traces the path the gun had taken, licking over his balls and the length of his spent cock, savoring the taste of Jensen’s release and the way Jensen moans in protest as Jared suckles the over-sensitive skin. Jensen hesitantly pulls on his hair, all he can reach, and Jared lets himself be guided up for a kiss that’s sweeter, gentler, and hotter than Jared would have thought possible. 

He’s surprised to see Jensen crying when he pulls back. 

“Not like that,” Jensen whispers, voice cracking. “Please. I know I said--I know you can do it however you want but please.”

Jared gathers him up, tries to make his voice soothing. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t, okay? I won’t. I just--” Jared doesn’t feel guilty, exactly, but he wishes he hadn’t frightened Jensen. 

Jensen quiets in his arms, eyes slipping closed. When he looks up at Jared again he asks sleepily, “Where’s Harley?” 

The question hurts. “He had to go stay with someone else,” he lies, hoping Jensen won’t ask more questions. The truth is, Harley is the reason Jared has two guns in his house. The dog had lived with Jared for nearly a year before a children’s rights activist had thrown poisoned meat over Jared’s fence. Harley’s death had been drawn out and painful while Jared had been out trying to bury his memories of Jensen in some other young body, and Jared had never forgiven himself for letting that happen, for losing that connection. 

“I liked him,” Jensen says wistfully. He wraps his arms around Jared instinctively as Jared stands, carrying him toward the bedroom in a few quick strides. “I’m tired, Jay,” he mumbles as Jared lays him down. “Can I sleep now?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Jared tells him soothingly. “When you wake up we’ll look at the script together, okay?”

“‘kay.” It’s breathed out on a sigh, chest rising and falling deeply. 

Jared watches Jensen sleep for a few minutes then returns to his laptop, firing it up just long enough to send off a quick email before he returns to the bedroom to curl around Jensen. The boy barely stirs in Jared’s arms as Jared pulls him close, drifting off himself for a few precious hours. 

Jared wakes up warm, Jensen curled up against his chest like a little space heater. His thumb is in his mouth, lashes casting thick shadows across his cheeks, and Jared feels a swell of _want_ , deep and hot. He tugs gently on Jensen’s wrist, stuck on the way his lips smack needily, seeking comfort. It’s easy for Jared to ease him onto his back, careless sprawl that makes him look even younger and turns want into need, into desperation. Jared plants a knee on either side of Jensen’s chest, knees forward til he can rub the leaking head of his dick over Jensen’s sleep parted lips. He groans when Jensen draws him in, eager for something to suckle, pushes gently into the wet warmth of Jensen’s mouth. 

Jensen sucks at the head of Jared’s cock like he had his thumb, his plump, sleep swollen lips working the nerves on the underside eagerly. His lashes flutter as Jared pushes deeper, moaning as those beautiful green eyes open and find Jared’s instantly. There’s a brief moment of confusion, then Jensen draws him closer, soft hands sneaking up Jared’s thighs to knead the thick muscle of his ass, urging him deeper. Jared takes the invitation, hands gripping the headboard so tightly it creaks under his fingers as he fucks in deeper, pushing past Jensen’s gag reflex into the tight grip of his throat. Jensen’s fingers, small and light, tug on Jared’s hips, wanting more, begging for it as Jared starts to thrust in earnest. Jared can’t tear his eyes from where his cock is stretching Jensen’s lips painfully wide, from the tears leaking from Jensen’s eyes as he fights to breathe around the cock wedged deep in his throat. 

“God, Jensen, your fucking _mouth_ ,” Jared groans. “So fucking good--” Jensen’s nails dig frantically into Jared’s hips, tiny crescents of pain that sparkle through the wave of pleasure that crashes over him endlessly as he comes as deep inside Jensen as he can get. 

Jared pulls out carefully, pulse still thundering, still gasping in time with the rasp of Jensen’s labored breaths. He collapses down onto the bed next to Jensen, strokes the long line of his throat as if he can still feel himself there. Jensen moans, writhes under Jared’s fingers, the sound raspy and hoarse. Jared eats the sound from Jensen’s mouth, kissing him greedily, eagerly. He moves on to suck a bruise into the tender hollow of Jensen’s throat, right where he imagines his dick was wedged deep a few moments earlier. Jensen’s hands tangle hesitantly in his hair, delicate and shy, guiding Jared lower. It’s hotter than it has a right to be, Jensen taking what he wants, asking for whatever Jared will give him. 

Jared knows, even if Jensen doesn’t, that the answer to that is everything. 

He mouths at Jensen’s dick, hard and leaking, licks over his hole as Jensen trembles and moans above him. It’s a surprise when Jensen pulls at his hair, drags him up for a long kiss. When he breaks away, he can’t meet Jared’s eyes, drops kisses all over Jared’s face as he whispers. 

“I don’t want to come,” he says softly, eyes slipping shut against the tears Jared can see shining there. “Not until--not until it’s time. Please?” 

“Sure, kid.” Jared swallows thickly, moves carefully away from the small body underneath his. “We should probably get cleaned up anyway. It’s almost time to go.”

Jensen nods, trembling slightly, and Jared had promised himself he wouldn’t but he can’t help himself. 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Jared asks gently. “I don’t care if there’s a contract, we can leave, I’ve got plenty of money, more than I know what to do with, it doesn’t matter if we never work in this industry again--it’s not like someone’s going to put out a contract on us or something, we could--”

“Don’t. Please.” Jensen’s crying for real now. “I can’t. When I’m bigger, you won’t want me...b-but I’ll still love you. I don’t want you to hate me.” Jensen turns his face into the pillow, hiding in plain sight, his words muffled but still finding their target. “I’m tired, Jay. Tired of hurting, tired of being afraid, tired of wanting something I can’t have.” 

Jared nods reluctantly. He understands the essence of what Jensen is saying, knows it’s probably true. For the first time he wishes he could be different, but he can’t. No more than Jensen can, but if Jared is honest with himself he’s glad, too. Fiercely glad, buried deep, that no one else will ever have Jensen again. No one else will ever kiss him, no one else will ever see his eyes wet and beautiful, no one else will ever see Jensen’s lips stretched wide around their cock or fuck him til he sobs and writhes and begs. 

“Okay,” Jared says, throat tight around everything he wants to say and can’t. “Okay. Let’s just...get cleaned up. Then we’ll head out.” He stands, scoops Jensen up into his arms before the boy can object. 

Time seems to stand still and fly as Jared kneels on the hard tile of the enormous shower. He cleans Jensen gently, taking special care with the cuts on his thigh and the tender, swollen skin of his hole. Every inch of him gets a kiss once it’s cleaned, from Jensen’s beautifully pink and swollen nipples to the tip of his sweetly hard little dick and each of his toes in turn. Jared stays on his knees when he’s done, lets Jensen carefully wash his hair and drag soapy hands down his shoulders and chest, across the broad solid muscle of his back, then stands braced against the cool tile wall so that Jensen can reach his legs. It’s a shock when Jensen draws hesitant fingers between the cheeks of his ass, pressing tentatively against Jared’s hole. 

“Can I?” Jensen asks, hushed, breath warm over the sensitive skin, and Jared shivers. No one has touched him like this in a long time, not since he grew big enough to say no, but he finds himself nodding. 

“Whatever you want,” he answers, hoarse and shaky, and Jensen takes him at his word, those soft hands spreading him open for tender little kitten licks over his rim that quickly turn bold as Jared gasps above him, falling apart under Jensen’s careful fingers and mouth. Jensen pushes inside him, just one soap slick finger, his own uneven breathing thundering in time with Jared’s pulse. Jared’s hard, never thought that would happen like this, never wanted it to, except that it’s Jensen, and that changes everything. Jensen slides another finger inside him, his two fingers scarcely matching one of Jared’s own and it burns, in his memory far more than his flesh. But it’s good, better than good, because it’s Jensen and it’s what Jensen wants, and Jared wants that more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. Jensen finger fucks him harder, looking for his sweet spot, one slim arm wrapped around his waist and his lips dotting kisses up and down Jared’s spine and the small of his back. The first touch has Jared seeing stars, rocking back against his will, a low moan leaking out from behind his clenched teeth. 

“Jensen…” he groans, and feels Jensen smile against his skin. He’s not prepared for Jensen to pull away, his hips chasing Jensen’s fingers as they leave his body, unspoken protest. 

“Just wanted to know what it felt like,” Jensen says softly. He slips between Jared and the cool tile he’s braced against, back against the wall as he looks up at Jared almost shyly. 

“I don’t usually let people do that.” Jared’s reeling, mind racing blankly, struggling with his own memories. 

“I know,” Jensen tells him. “I did some research on you, after. Watched your films. You were the same age as me.” 

“No one gets to be a kid anymore,” Jared agrees, parroting Jensen’s own words back to him. “Not for a long time.” 

Jensen doesn’t answer, but his eyes never leave Jared’s as he leans forward just enough to suck the head of Jared’s cock between his lips. Jared pushes in with a groan and Jensen doesn’t resist, slips back to rub tantalizingly against Jared’s opening before filling him again. Jared swears brokenly when Jensen finds his prostate again, torn between the sweet, merciless pleasure of Jensen’s fingers and the beautifully tight clench of his throat. He can’t find a rhythm, lightning crackling along every nerve, yet even through the haze of pleasure Jared finds a tiny flare of resentment for everyone else who ever touched Jensen, who taught him these things that should have been Jared's. _It should have been me_ , he thinks, and then it's gone, washed away in the light of Jensen's eyes gleaming up at him. 

The water is starting to run cool by the time Jared reluctantly reaches for one of the fluffy towels he has custom made in his size. He dries Jensen just as carefully as he'd cleaned him, then Jensen climbs up onto the closed toilet to dry Jared's hair, giggling when Jared shakes water all over them both.

They hit a snag when it’s time to get dressed, or at least Jared thinks so. None of Jared’s clothes will fit Jensen, obviously, which leaves them with nothing but the clothes he’d shown up in, filthy and stained. Jensen just shrugs, gives Jared a carefully brittle smile. 

“It’s just for a little while,” he says, and the crack in his voice widens the crack in Jared’s heart. But he’s already tried, and he can’t say it again _stay with me_ , can’t beg _please just stay_ no matter how much he wants to. 

But Jensen reads his mind, or so it seems, maybe just his desperation, maybe just his own panic setting in. “I’d stay if I could,” Jensen says, eyes as green as the grass Jared fucked him on the very first time. “But I can’t. I can’t help what’s going to happen, and I can’t lose you again, and I just want--” 

Jared stops him with a kiss, doesn’t want to hear all the other ways this could have ended. 

“Can you do it?” Whisper soft, aching and needy with the knowledge of just how far everything has shifted. 

Jared nods. “Every single time I’m with you is better than anything has ever been,” he says, holding Jensen’s gaze as he slowly turns pink. “I can do what you need me to do, even if I don’t want to. I can be what you need me to be.” He holds Jensen’s close, savors Jensen’s arms around his neck, Jensen’s face pressed into his shoulder, the soft brush of Jensen’s hair along his jaw, and doesn’t let himself think about the days and weeks and years that they could have had this. Jensen’s here now, and that’s enough.

The trip to the location Jared had chosen is mostly quiet, the driver listening to soft rock in the front seat while Jared and Jensen sit silently in the back. Jensen is tucked under Jared’s arm where he belongs, freckles and the dark circles under his eyes standing out starkly against his pallor, and Jared wishes he knew what to say. But all the playful banter he uses to put his young costars at ease has fled, tacky and trite and insincere in the face of what’s coming. They both startle when Jared’s phone chimes, Jensen looking up at him curiously as he checks. 

_Chris: In place. You really doing this?_

_Jared: Already on the way. Don’t screw this up, old man._

_Jared: Take care of yourself._

Jared turns his phone off after that, understanding how Jensen feels a little better now. His mind is made up, being second guessed by those around him isn’t helping. He pulls Jensen a little closer, tries to focus, but it’s no use. There’s so much to say, so many words crowding his mind that in the end none of them get said, and Jensen’s grateful smile when they arrive at the shooting location tells him maybe that was for the best. 

“We never did go over the script,” Jensen says as the driver opens the door politely. “I hope it’s nothing too complicated.” He bites his lip uncertainly. “I’m not sure I can really concentrate on lines and stuff.”

“There’s not much to say,” Jared tells him gently. “It’s going to be pretty simple. A lot like the original, in the beginning at least. Speaking of which…”

The door to the makeup trailer opens before Jared can even knock, a serious woman with reddened eyes pulling them inside before bursting into tears again. 

“Pamela,” Jared chides gently. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice choked. “I just--”

Jensen steps forward, takes her hand. “It’s okay,” he says, smiling up at her, and Jared’s not surprised to see tears in his eyes, too. “You don’t have to stay. I can do it myself.”

“No.” Pamela shakes her head vigorously. “No. I can do my job. It’s just...I remember that first time, I remember how small and beautiful you were.” Her smile is faint and watery. “And still are.” 

Jared moves to the other end of the small trailer and starts to undress, listening and watching from the corner of her eye as Pamela works her magic. The worst of Jensen’s bruises--those around his neck and thighs and hips--disappear under her brushes, the depth and color of his brilliant green eyes accentuated and heightened until Jared can’t look away. She tsks at the state of Jensen’s clothes, eyes wet as she folds them carefully and stacks them in the tiny closet, as though Jensen will need them later. She offers him a pair of black boxer briefs, perfectly sized, that Jensen regards with surprise before pulling them on. 

“Not exactly like before, I guess,” he says, words directed at Jared, a question in his voice. 

“Kind of like a reverse version,” Jared agrees. There’s a copy of the script on the makeup counter for each of them, just a few pages long--nothing fancy, just as Jared had said. In fact, the opening is as close to identical to the original as Jared thought made sense. There are a couple of scenarios sketched out for the ending, but Jared had left that part open, wanting the creative freedom to do what felt right. He hands a copy to Jensen to read through while Pamela works her magic on him. 

“Okay,” Jensen says when he’s done, voice small. Pamela is finishing up with Jared, not much to do at this point. Unlike with Jensen, she doesn’t speak to Jared, lips drawn thin and hard as she combs through his hair one last time. “I guess I better go get in place.”

“Hold up,” Jared says. He thanks Pamela for her help and stands, crossing to the trailer’s small closet as she leaves. There, up on the top shelf, are the final pieces of Jensen’s costume. Reaching up, Jared pulls out a small crown of flowers, black and deep, almost violent red. A pair of glossy black wings are next, tattered and a little worn, and Jensen’s eyes widen as he reaches out to touch.

“Are those my wings?” he asks, hushed, and Jared nods. 

“I had them cleaned,” he says, pleased by Jensen’s reaction. “And the harness is just a little bigger.” 

Jensen holds out his arms as Jared kneels in front of him. The matte black leather and shiny black feathers glow against the pallor of his skin, accentuating his freckles and the stark bruises still standing out vibrantly on his arms and chest. Jared rubs the bruise he’d sucked into the hollow of Jensen’s throat that morning, the sense memory of being inside Jensen sending half the blood in his body to his dick. Jensen’s hair, cornsilk fine and brilliant, gets the flower crown of black and crimson, no longer innocent and not a single regret for that loss.

“There you go.” The words hurt coming out, and he can’t help leaning forward, one more kiss before he has to give Jensen to other people one last time. It’s almost a relief to finally be here, to know that soon it will be just the two of them again. “We’d better get going, I know Singer’s getting impatient.”

 

“He’s always impatient.” Jensen’s voice trembles. “How are you going to do it?” 

Jared doesn’t answer for a moment. “We’ll know what to do when we get there,” he says, hands cradling Jensen’s face. “I promise.”

“I trust you,” Jensen says. He closes his eyes for a moment, breathes deep. He keeps his expression steady as Jared opens the door and they step out into the warm evening air. Jared hears the crew yelling orders distantly, arranging the cameras and lighting, then the set goes quiet as the crew sees Jensen.

“It’s beautiful,” Jensen breathes. “Almost like we’re back in New Orleans.” 

Jared nods, pleased that he’d taken the time to specify the set dressings. “I wish we could have gone back, but there just wasn’t time. So we did this instead.”

 _This_ is a wide lot, scattered with ancient oak trees that loom and drip Spanish moss from their gnarled limbs as though the trees themselves are weeping for what’s to come. It’s quiet and shadowed, almost eerie, an effect that’s heightened by the lone swing hanging from a tree branch and a long, low table--more of an altar, really--that rests in the clearing’s single beam of sunlight. 

Despite the somber atmosphere, scene is set almost identically to their first movie. It’s not the first scene in the movie--Jared had negotiated the purchase of several clips from Jensen’s darker movies. The brass had offered a token protest--cheaper to hire men to actually fuck Jensen than to pay royalties on Jensen’s very successful movies. But Jared had turned them down flat--once Jensen was Jared’s again, no one else was touching him, period. The money men had acquiesced immediately, unwilling to risk the incredible amount of money they were still going to make off Jensen’s death at Jared’s hands. 

Jared takes Jensen’s hand, returning the boy’s grateful smile. They walk together toward Singer, who had paused in berating one of the lighting crew in mid-rant.

“We’re not ready,” he snarls, glaring at the hapless crewman again. “Sergei here has to run to Home Depot for replacement bulbs, because no one thought to check the lights before call time.” He waves his arms furiously. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here!” 

Sergei scurries off, babbling apologies. 

Singer sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Sorry you got all dressed up for nothing, boys. There’s a Home Depot right around the corner, and the order’s called in--Sergei should be back in ten-fifteen minutes.”

Jared nods easily. “No problem, Bob, just give us a yell when everything’s set up. We’re going to look around, run through things.”

Jensen smiles a little when he sees the swing, but it’s the altar that really catches his attention.  
It’s made of gray silicone, textured to look like stone, with decorative carvings along the base and sides. There are four gently rounded posts, one for each corner, each about ten inches long, with a slightly bulbous shape that narrows then widens to a base that’s nearly the size of Jared’s closed fist. Their purpose is fairly obvious and Jared thinks it ought it ought to look corny and tacky, but somehow it fits with the somber location. And it’s almost the perfect height for Jared to lay Jensen down and fuck him if that’s what he wants to do. Jared’s cock throbs at the thought of it, of Jensen sprawled across an altar like a fallen angel while Jared drives into his soft, willing body over and over until the end. 

“We’ll start over there, then come over here.” It’s not a question, Jensen’s voice musing and soft but certain as he interrupts Jared’s train of thought. He trails his fingers up the length of one of the thick posts, clearly divining it’s purpose, and looking up at Jared from under his lashes. “And then you’ll…” 

Jensen looks up at Jared, pats the firm surface. Jared takes the hint, swings Jensen up to stand on the altar. He keeps his hands wrapped around Jensen’s waist, fingers nearly meeting around his slender form. Jensen’s hands rest on Jared’s shoulders, toying with his hair as he looks down, just barely taller than Jared even now. 

“I didn’t tell you the truth earlier.” It’s a whisper but Jared _feels_ the impact. “Not all of it. I’m sorry.” 

“Jensen, you didn’t owe me anything,” Jared says gently. He reminds himself that he has no right to feel betrayed. “You can tell me as little or as much as you want.” Jared rises onto his toes to kiss Jensen, quick and soft. “But I want to hear everything you want to tell me.”

Jensen leans against Jared, foreheads pressed together until Jared can feel Jensen’s eyelashes against his skin. “I asked for you because I wanted to see you again,” he says quietly. “Because my parents hate you. And because I knew you’d do it, and I knew you’d say yes fast, before they could stop it.” He pulls a shaky breath straight from Jared’s lungs. “You’ve heard of Alistair.”

It’s not a question--it doesn’t need to be. Everyone in this business has heard of Alistair and the horrific things he does to the men, women, and children who wind up on his table. “The vivisectionist.”

Jensen nods, face white and pinched. “After I tried to get emancipation, my parents decided to have my agent’s guardianship revoked. She was...she was trying to look out for me, as best she could, and they thought she was being too careful, that she was costing them money. My parents had talked to Alistair once before, but he--he wanted to leave marks, and they were afraid I wouldn’t be as valuable if I had scars.”

Jensen’s shaking slightly, hands trembling on Jared’s shoulders. Jared picks him up, tucks him against his chest as best he can with the wings still strapped to Jensen’s back. He sits carefully with his back against the altar, giving Jensen what little privacy he can. 

“They met him for dinner. He said my movies with you reminded him of his angel, the most beautiful boy he’d ever worked with. His name was Dean.”

“Dean?” Jared asks, brow furrowing slightly. “That name is familiar.” 

Jensen looks at him with surprise. “Did you know him?”

It’s Jared’s turn to nod. “I think so, yeah. We worked together, once, when I was just starting. He was a couple of years older than me, I could tell he didn’t want to be there. But he told me sometimes you do what you have to do and he had a little brother he had to take care of.” Jared hesitates, thinking back. “He was...nice to me. As gentle as he was allowed to be. And he looked a lot like you.”

Jensen shivers, tears sparkling in his eyelashes as he clings more tightly to Jared. “Alistair said he won Dean’s little brother in a poker game with his dad, but Dean said he’d go in his place. And that it would have been the best deal he ever made except that he didn’t get to finish. Dean killed himself before Alistair had the chance to do e-everything he wanted.” His voice drops even lower. “But he’d be more careful with me.”

The horror in Jensen’s voice chills Jared to the bone, but his anger warms him again. 

“That’s not going to happen, Jensen. I promise.”

“It will,” Jensen says bleakly. “My parents already have the contract. They’re trying to get this one annulled once my agent’s guardianship is revoked. They’re angry at me that I still want to be with you, that I tried to get away from them. If they find me, they’ll stop us, and give me to him instead.” 

Jared pulls him closer. “I _won’t_ let that happen. I promise.” He turns Jensen to face him. “And more. We’re going to do the opposite of what your parents wanted, we’re going to show everyone that there’s nothing wrong with what you want. Trust me?”

Jensen throws his arms around Jared. “I do,” he whispers. They stay that way until Singer starts shouting for them, then waves them back to Pamela’s trailer in annoyance when he sees the mess Jensen’s makeup has dissolved into. 

Pamela tsks over Jensen’s red nose and swollen red eyes, but she works her magic anyway. Eye drops, toner, an eyeliner touchup. She doesn’t cover his freckles, which Jared appreciates. Jensen is beautiful as he is, Pamela’s tricks and trappings scarcely able to improve or accentuate, but Jared can’t deny that he’s breathtaking by the time she’s done. 

This time Jared sends Jensen out on his own. He needs a few minutes to process everything Jensen told him, to grieve the kind and beautiful boy he’d known so long ago. He closes his eyes, briefly, reminds himself-- _soon_. 

When Jared feels recovered, he steps out of the trailer, his eyes going automatically to the swing where Jensen is waiting. He breathes deep, feels himself drop away. Jared isn’t an actor, per se, but he does have to be convincing. It’s easy, most times, and despite the circumstances today is no exception. His cock is already hardening at the thought of touching Jensen again, of everything that’s coming. _Soon_ , he thinks again, and then his attention is focused entirely on the scene in front of him.

The crowd of crew and lights and cameras parts slightly to reveal Jensen on the swing, wings and flower crown in place. But there are differences from the first film, subtle and dramatic. Jensen’s wings are glossy black but tattered, no longer so full and beautiful. His crown is black and crimson instead the innocent white from before. He slumps on the seat, toes barely touching the ground, dragging slowly and painfully through the grass. His expression is hopeless, worn and exhausted. 

It’s a stunning tableau, Jensen every bit as beautiful as he was three years ago, the first time Jared saw him. Singer hands Jared an apple and Jared tosses it casually from hand to hand as he strolls across the grass. It falls unnoticed from his hand when he spots Jensen on the swing, stops to stare for a moment before continuing his approach. There’s an extra swing in his hips, a gleam in his eyes--prey spotted, target acquired. 

Jared circles behind Jensen, one finger snaking up spine just for him, just like before. Jensen shivers this time, and so does Jared, mouth watering, dick hard and wet thinking about what comes next. Jensen looks up when Jared kneels before him, and Jared has a brief moment of wonder for what Jensen could have accomplished in a different world. Jensen straightens, light coming back to his eyes, hope and warmth suffusing his features. He looks like a different child as he reaches out to touch Jared’s face, fingers sliding into Jared’s hair to pull him close. It’s unsettling, the sudden shift in dynamic throwing Jared off balance--he’s supposed to be the aggressor, the instigator. 

But Jensen has other ideas. He kisses Jared desperately, both hands in Jared’s hair now, tiny sounds falling into the space around them as Jared clings to rope the swing hangs from with both hands. He’s free-falling, out of control, and after a split second of hesitation he casts himself willingly into Jensen’s hands, letting him take the lead for as long as he needs it. The script can wait. 

Eventually Jensen pulls back, as aware as Jared that their audience has a limited tolerance for activities that aren’t actual fucking. Instead he pushes Jared’s face toward his throat, urging him to take what he wants, and Jared is only too happy to comply, kissing over the secret bruises ringing the tender flesh, sinking his teeth into Jensen’s collarbones. Jensen’s head is thrown back, expression rapturous as Jared ravishes him, scatters bites and bruises everywhere he can reach until he’s finally parting Jensen’s thighs. He nuzzles the slight bulge there, camera completely forgotten as he loses himself in the clean, soft smell of boy and Jensen, sharpened this time by the scent of his arousal. Jensen moans above him, pushes his hips up in a silent plea for more and Jared can’t say no, never could. 

Jared strips away Jensen’s black briefs, leaves them lying in the grass forgotten as Jared gets his hands under the scant muscle of Jensen’s ass and lifts. He’s showing Jensen off for the camera, wants everyone to be just as entranced as he is by the way his hands engulf Jensen’s slender body and by the tender pink of Jensen’s balls and dick. Then there’s nothing but the taste and smell of Jensen surrounding him, that hard flesh leaking into his mouth as he licks and sucks every trace of _boy_ from Jensen’s skin.

“Jared!” Shaky whisper, full of it’s own desperation, small soft hand tugging at his hair. “Jared, please I--” 

Jared sits back reluctantly, spit on his lips and chin, tongue darting out to catch even the faintest trace of Jensen on his lips. “Do it,” Jared orders softly, voice low and intense as he bends lower again, trying not to block the camera as he squeezes Jensen’s dick just this side of rough. Jensen cries out, a few thin spurts painting Jared’s face before he collapses against him, breathless. 

“Cut!” Singer yells, outraged. “Script? What script? Apparently we don’t need a script, is that it, Jared?”

Jared stands, not bothering to wipe his face. “It’s good footage,” he says calmly, rescuing the beleaguered script from Singer’s clenched fist. He scans the page then points, not to a line on the script but his own name, right after the words _Executive Producer._ “We’ll pick up here.” 

Singer glares at him, speechless, then snatches the paper back and stalks away, shouting at the production crew to reset the next shot. 

“You okay?” Jared asks, sinking back down next to Jensen. They’re basically picking up where they left off, with Jared scooping Jensen into his arms and carrying him to where he’s going to fuck the life out of him. Jared’s cock aches at the thought and so does his heart, every beat closer to the last time he’ll ever be inside Jensen. Jared’s mind is spinning with the possibilities, because Singer is right and they don’t really need a script. This is the end. Singer can give them a little leeway.

Jensen nods, eyes dreamy and a little lost. “I’m ready.”

“Action!” Singer calls, and they’re one step closer. 

Jared lifts Jensen easily, a shining prize he doesn’t really deserve. The few steps to where the cameras are set up are forever and nothing, Jensen’s legs crossed demurely, his arms around Jared’s neck, his cheek pressed against Jared’s chest. The harness and wings are scratchy against Jared’s skin, distant annoyances that barely register in the maelstrom of thought and emotion and need rushing through Jared with every step.

Jared stops a few feet from the altar, falling to his knees with Jensen still in his arms. He kisses him slowly, deep and dirty, and Jensen responds eagerly, turning in Jared’s arms until they’re face to face, lovers. Jared reluctantly pushes him back after a few minutes, turns him gently onto trembling knees and kisses his way down Jensen’s slim back, in love with the golden freckles dotting his skin, the sweet lordosis curve of his lower back. He’s being too gentle, too slow--he knows that, in the distant part of his mind that can care about such things. But Singer isn’t calling cut and Jensen is moaning breathlessly underneath him, pushing back against him needily as Jared slowly licks over the strawberry red of his rim, circling endlessly before dipping in. He’s still professional enough to put on a show, making sure the cameras have a good view of Jensen’s well fucked and well stretched hole, pulling back enough to get both thumbs into the gape and show off the white streaked pink of his insides. Jensen arches his back, wings fluttering as he spreads his legs wider, begging with his body for _moremoremore_. Jared fucks him as deep as he can, dragging the most delicious sounds out of him as he works two fingers in alongside his tongue, not enough prep for Jared’s dick but Jared can’t wait any longer, needs to be inside him. Jensen moans in protest when Jared reluctantly pulls his fingers away, pushing his tight black leather pants down until they catch on the meat of this thighs, then kicks them off. He holds out his hand for lube, movie magic they’ll edit out later, slicks his cock with a groan. Jensen gasps, air punched out of him by the long, hard slide of Jared’s cock, pressing in and in until there’s nowhere left for Jared to go.

“Please,” he moans, and Jared pulls Jensen back against his chest to mouth sloppy kisses over his shoulders and collarbones and cheeks, tug at his nipples until they’re tight and hard. Jensen looks like the angel he’s made up to be, eyes half closed, the heavy sweep of his lashes throwing dusky shadows over his cheeks, lips parted beautifully, and Jared wants to keep him like this forever, drunk on pleasure and _Jared_. He rolls his hips, pulling back and driving in again just as hard, letting the camera see the way his dick moves inside Jensen, spreading Jensen’s legs wide to show the thick base of his cock splitting Jensen open. Jared wants nothing more than to push him down and fuck him senseless, push him into the grass and give Jensen everything he’d asked for, everything Jared had to give, but he doesn’t. Can’t. Instead he presses a gentle kiss to Jensen’s temple as he lifts him into his arms. 

“It’s time,” Jared whispers tenderly, just for him, just for them. Jensen shudders, nods minutely. He wraps his arms around Jared, lets Jared kiss away the tear that slips down his cheek.

“Shh,” Jared soothes. “Trust me?” He doesn’t say _don’t worry_ , doesn’t tell Jensen there’s nothing to be afraid of. He doesn’t want lies between them, not here. Not now.

Jensen nods, trembling in Jared’s arms as Jared carries him toward the corner closest to them, toward the post rising from the altar. It’s already slick and glistening thanks to some industrious PA, waiting for whatever Jared has planned. Jared kisses Jensen slow and deep as he lowers him, his hands spread wide over Jensen’s hips and ass, his fingers teasing at his sensitive opening. He wants to take this slow, draw it out--this is the last time Jensen will moan his name, the last time his cheeks will flush so beautifully, the last time his hands will clutch desperately at Jared’s shoulders or tangle in his hair--but he can’t. Jensen doesn’t deserve that, and Jared isn’t sure he can bear it either. He needs Jensen, needs this, too badly. 

The pained, needy sound Jensen makes when Jared forces the blunt head of the post into his body goes straight to Jared’s dick. He knows it’s got to hurt--the hard silicone is wider than Jared, if only slightly, and Jensen’s hole has got to be fucked raw at this point. But he doesn’t say stop, doesn’t beg Jared to wait, so he doesn’t. He slides Jensen down another inch as he kisses away the moans Jensen can’t hold in, another inch as Jensen’s head falls back, lips parted and eyes closed, another as the tears turning his eyes into stars overflow onto his cheeks for Jared to kiss away. Two more inches and Jared’s bent almost double, digging bruises into Jensen’s hips and ass, white-knuckled against the need to just shove Jensen down to the base and _take_ what he needs, but he holds on, holds out against his desire and takes it slow. Drinks down the incoherent moans, kisses away his tears as he carefully forces the thick base, as wide as Jared’s fist, into Jensen’s trembling body. 

“So beautiful,” Jared murmurs, lips pressed to Jensen’s hair, voice ragged and torn. “So fucking beautiful like this, they’re all gonna see--” He falls to his knees before Jensen, kisses and bites and licks the hard line of the post pushing against the conclave plane of his belly. He turns so that Jensen’s body is visible, so that everyone can see how beautiful he is like this, so that he can steal kiss after kiss while the cameras zoom in over his shoulder. They disappear from his awareness, a minor annoyance, as he bends lower to take Jensen into his mouth, licking and sucking his cock and balls until he’s hard again, until his hands are knotted in Jared’s hair as he begs wordlessly. Jared watches as he comes apart, drinks in the sun in his hair, the pink and gold of his skin where he’s flushed so beautifully, the white of his teeth, sunk into the deep red of his lips. He’s breathtaking, and Jared never wants to look at anything else again, wants to capture this moment and hold it forever, even if forever is only the few minutes they have left. 

Back on his feet, Jared takes a precious moment to push Jensen’s hair back from his face, sweaty and messy under his flower crown but still soft as silk under his fingers. Trust and adoration, maybe even love, shine up at him as he thumbs the soft pink of Jensen’s lip, puffy and bitten full. Jensen opens obediently, licks out over Jared’s thumb and Jared groans, breathless and weak-kneed all over again. He wants to say something, anything, but they haven’t invented words for how Jensen makes him feel, for all the things they want and need from each other, and in the end he just slides his hand into Jensen’s hair and his cock into Jensen’s mouth. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and Jensen moans around him eagerly. “God, Jensen--your mouth--” Jared’s been on edge for so long, the soft wet heat of Jensen’s mouth is almost too much. He pushes in deeper, the head of his cock stretching Jensen’s lips wide as he works to take everything Jared has to give him. Jensen swallows around him, his nails digging into Jared’s hips as Jared’s grip in his hair tightens and he pushes deeper into the velvet heat of Jensen’s mouth, then further. Jensen gags slightly and Jared almost loses it, realizes he can’t draw this out the way he’d like if they’re going to finish this today. He loosens his grip on Jensen’s hair, his hand drifting down til his thumb is stroking Jensen’s throat, sliding around to settle at the base and squeeze. Panic flares briefly in Jensen’s eyes, instinctive reaction before he settles again, giving that same trust and love that Jared knows he doesn’t deserve. 

Jared can feel Jensen’s pulse under his fingers, fluttery and wild. He squeezes, gently at first, then harder, struggling to keep the thrust of his hips steady as Jensen’s body starts to panic. Jared can see the heave of his thin chest, feel the muscles of his throat milking his cock. Tears pool in Jensen’s eyes, and _God_. Jensen has always been beautiful when he cries, and to Jared’s eyes he’s never looked more beautiful than right now.

The sky is gray, the trees are weeping, and Jared’s little boy blue isn’t breathing anymore. 

Jensen’s hand falls away from Jared’s wrist to hang limply at his side, and Jared only realizes he’s crying when his tears fall stinging onto the gouges left behind by Jensen’s fingers as his body fought his heart. Jensen’s eyes are still open, still brilliantly beautiful and scarcely dimmed. Jared doesn’t release his grip, just thrusts into the hot clench of Jensen’s throat one last time and lets go, lets the pleasure overwhelm him one last time, richly bittersweet and no less devastating for the pain that follows. The final drops of his release splash across Jensen’s face, drip down his cheeks like tears, drive Jared to his knees. Jared tilts Jensen’s face towards his and kisses the taste of himself from Jensen’s mouth for the last time before wrapping his arms around Jensen’s slight, still body and laying his head on Jensen’s unmoving chest.

There’s a sharp crack, low and loud, and at first Jared thinks the pain in his chest is his heart bursting from the agony of what he’s done, what he had to do. He surrenders to the pain willingly, welcomes the cold creeping through him, clings to Jensen’s body as darkness overwhelms everything.

************************************************************

_“Tonight’s top story is, of course, the continuing saga of the suicide pact between Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, which was acted out in the sixth and final film in their **Forbidden Fruit** series, **Forbidden Fruit: Requiem**.” _

_“That’s right, Jim. 22 year old Jared Padalecki, adult film star veteran since he was nine years old, and Jensen Ackles, his now 13 year old co-star, apparently entered into double suicide pact that has shaken the adult film industry to its core. The two young men met just over three years ago when Padalecki handpicked Ackles to star with him in what would eventually become one of the industry’s few critically acclaimed film series…”_

The blond man drinking alone at the bar glares up at the talking heads spouting off on the bar’s lone TV set, flipping them off before returning to his drink. He signals the bartender for another, nearly falls off his seat when the man suddenly sitting next to him says gruffly, “Make it two.” 

“Jesus Christ, Chris,” he mutters as the bartender slides their drinks over. “Make some fucking noise, will you?”

Chris raises an eyebrow, and the blond just shakes his head and sighs. 

“Just tell me it’s done.”

“I’m a professional, Chad. It’s done. You want the pictures?” A plain envelope slaps onto the polished wood bar as Chris drains his glass in one long swallow, nods at the bartender who pours another shot.

Chad shudders. “I wish I could take your word for it,” he says, opening the envelope reluctantly. He doesn’t pull the pictures all the way out, just enough to verify the identities of the bodies and the discreet placement of the bullet holes. “Christ,” he swears again. “The sister’s safe?” 

Chris nods again. “There’s an aunt up north. Some kind of kid’s rights activist, trying to get kiddie porn shut down. The girl will be fine.” 

Chad rolls his eyes. “Well, here’s hoping the aunt stays busy with--what’s her name, Mackenzie?--and leaves me and everyone else alone to run our very lucrative business.” 

They drink in silence for awhile, staring at their drinks, at the TV. Clips of Jared and Jensen’s movies, discreetly blurred, flash up on the screen briefly, followed by a recap of Jensen and Jared’s history together, then a picture of their last moment. It shows Jared on his knees, arms around Jensen, Jensen’s wings shadowing them both like some sort of benediction underneath an ancient oak tree that drips Spanish moss like tears. The red of Jared’s blood is shockingly bright against Jensen’s skin and the gray altar.

“Jay always did have a flair for the dramatic,” Chris says, shaking his head fondly. “They're gonna sell a million copies just on the cover alone.”

“That he did,” Chad agrees, then turns back to the TV to listen.

_"As you know, Timothy, the story of Jared and Jensen is only getting more unusual as time passes. Today, a week after the deaths of Ackles and Padalecki, the bodies of Alan and Donna Ackles were discovered shot dead in their Richardson, Texas home. Unlike with Padalecki, there was no suicide contract on file for either victim, leading the police to believe that the killings were, in fact, murder.”_ _“That’s right, Mark. And so far all the evidence points to Alistair, the adult film industry’s most controversial and notorious director and producer. The police have uncovered evidence that indicates that Alistair wanted to film Jensen’s death himself, and that Jensen’s parents were in agreement. However, it seems that Jensen and his manager, who was also his legal guardian, accepted the Padalecki contract instead.”_

_“Well, that’s certainly no surprise, Timothy--Alistair’s work isn’t something many people would choose for themselves. In addition, Alistair has been investigated several times for improper death contracts, and while he has always been exonerated, many in the industry remain convinced that he uses coercive means and even outright fraud to acquire performers.”_

_“It will certainly be interesting to see how this one plays out, Mark. For now, I and many others are happy that Jensen and Jared’s story ended the way they wanted it to, which is really all any of us can ask for.”_

Chad turns to glare at Chris, anger rising. “You framed Alistair for the Ackles? Why not just kill him instead? Jared might still be alive if you’d taken out Alistair from the start. Jared was your friend, how could you not try to save him?”

Ice blue eyes regard Chad mildly. “That's right,” Chris says, and a chill runs up Chad’s spine despite his even tone. “I was his friend. Not his therapist. This is what he wanted.” He shrugs. “Besides, you know how fucked up he was over that kid. And you don’t know as much as you think you know. Alistair is off limits, everyone in our line of work knows that.” 

Chad scoffs. “Don’t tell me you believe those stories about him being some sort of boogeyman,” he sneers, the alcohol in his system making him braver than he should be. “All that bullshit about how he’s unkillable? Please.”

“Everyone who’s gone up against him has died or gone insane,” Chris says, and now there’s ice in his voice as well. “I’ve personally seen him walk away from injuries that would have killed another man. I suggest you think carefully before you start making accusations you can’t back up.”

Chad opens his mouth to speak, then closes it abruptly, choosing wisely for once. “You think you’ll ever love someone that much?” he asks instead, changing the subject back to safer topics, and Chris gives him an incredulous look. 

“You think that was _love_?” 

Chad shrugs. “What else would you call it? Jared arranged to have their ashes combined and mixed into the foundation of the new wing of the animal shelter where they picked out the dogs for their ‘Hellhound’ movie for Christ’s sake.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope. There’s going to be a small ceremony tomorrow, very discreet...they obviously don’t want anyone to know that their new building was financed with very dirty money.”

Chris just shakes his head. “I have no idea what that is,” he says quietly, and lifts his glass for a toast. “But whatever that is, wherever they are--I hope they’re happy.” 

Chad taps the rim of Chris’s glass with his own. “I’ll drink to that, my friend. I’ll drink to that.”

***************************************

“Harley!” 

The voice is light and happy, clear as a bell, filled with joyful laughter. A young boy runs across a grassy meadow, chasing a huge brown dog who is intent on the tall figure standing near the meadow’s lone tree. The dog reaches the figure first, jumping and barking with excitement. The figure--the man--kneels to ruffle his ears happily, then opens his arms wide. The boy barrels into him, wraps himself around the man and tilts his face up for a quick kiss before running after the dog again. They play until the sunlight fades, revealing a smallish house with warm light shining from every window. The man lifts the boy into his arms, carries him to the house as the dog trots happily alongside. 

The door closes behind them, but their laughter still filters out into the night.


End file.
